Masquerade
by Cherry-San
Summary: TezuAto. Imperial. Atobe Keigo is the perfect son. “It doesn’t matter whether I like it or not, Tezuka. I dance because others want me to. Isn’t that enough?”


This was written last May, actually, for a fic exchange on LJ. I was not planning on posting it but after some minor revisions, I believe it is at least partially up to par. However, if not, I may move this to another archive or just delete it altogether.

Warning: Short, slightly choppy, and a pairing that I've never written before.

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_Masquerade_

Atobe Keigo was the perfect son. He had the perfect smile, the perfect laugh, the perfect face, and the perfect life. He was obedient, respectful, and intelligent. He could charm any guests, dance with a thousand daughters, and still have the calmest smile.

And as he brought the gloved hand up to his mouth for another ritual kiss, his glamour never faded. He slid his arm around the girl's waist, his fingers brushing against the silken fabric as he pulled her closer all while wishing he was anywhere but here.

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"Another dance, miss?"

Atobe bowed smoothly, offering his hand again as the music again. He smiled disarmingly at the girl, letting his bangs move in front of his eyes as he pinned her with soft gaze. He didn't want to dance again, but it was expected of him to ask. After all, she was the oldest daughter of Father's newest business partner, and it would only be polite.

The girl giggled and blushed expectedly, bringing one of her dainty little hands up to her mouth to cover the noise coyly. "Maybe later," she said in what she thought was a teasing voice. She was two years older than Atobe, and maybe thought she shouldn't give in to the charms of a younger boy so quickly. Or maybe she thought that she was playing hard to get. "I do have to dance with some of the other boys, Atobe-kun."

It really didn't matter.

Atobe smiled as he withdrew his hand, curling his fingers back in subtle and well-hidden distaste. "Regretfully," he said as he gave another sweeping bow. He pivoted gracefully, turning and striding off the ballroom floor, just as orchestra started up another waltz. He heard a disappointed sigh from the girl as he distanced himself, upset at Atobe's quick concession to her refusal.

Atobe sauntered off the edge dance floor, fixing the cuffs of his designer suit as he walked. His father caught his eye from across the room and gave an approving nod before turning back to whatever conversation he was engaged in with a presumed business partner. Atobe allowed himself a smirk as he walked outside, allowing the night air to cool his skin that was laced with the smallest sheen of sweat from the crowds indoors. His musky gray eyes scanned the distance absently, the nightlife of Tokyo more vibrant when compared to weakly twinkling stars above that hung overhead, hiding behind the blanket of smog and smoke. He fixated his eyes downward, resting his forearms on the iron railing as he stared blankly at one of their various decorative fountains.

And as he listened to the chattering of the party, the upbeat pace of the orchestra, and almost inaudible falling of water, Atobe waited for another night to be over.

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"Keigo."

Atobe didn't bother to turn away from his vanity as he father entered the room, the smooth reflection in the mirror staring back at him. He idly continued brushing his hair, the soft bristles caressing his scalp as he meticulously smoothed away any knots, his eyes meeting his father's through the reflection. "Yes, father?"

"You did well today. The Yoshiba girl has requested that you perhaps come visit them in their summer home the upcoming vacation. I trust you have no objections." Atobe-sama kept his arms rigidly at his sides, bending them neatly behind his back at the elbow as he spoke. He kept his tone clinical and concise, taking the habitual tone of talking to another business partner instead of his son.

Atobe put his brush down, the ivory encrusted handle making a soft clip against the oak vanity as he brought his right hand up to run through his hair, turning his head at a slight angle to examine himself in the mirror. "Of course not, father."

"Good. It's important to have allies in the business world. They prove to be a valuable asset.

"I'll keep that in mind, Father."

"As you should." Atobe-sama straightened his tie as he turned around, pausing for a second as he allowed the nearest maid to open the deep mahogany doors for him. "Goodnight, Keigo."

"Goodnight, Father." Atobe's hand slid over his hairbrush again, gripping the wooden handle with his finely manicured hand. His eyes hardened in his reflection as he watched his father's retreating form disappear behind the door. _'Whatever you say, Father.'_

He grip tightened over the brush before he relaxed, closing his eyes for a moment. He let out a soft breath, removing his hand from the brush's handle. "Gisel," he said, his voice soft yet void of emotions.

One of the maids jumped visibly at the sound of her name, her deep black hair looking flurried and panicked as she scurried forward, smoothing out hem of her skirt nervously. "Yes, Keio-sama?"

"I'll be retiring early tonight. Please get my affects ready." Atobe started standing up, straightening his robe from the unlikely wrinkles that had gathered during his nightly routine. Another maid hurried over, pulling his seat back while already straightening the objects scattered over the vanity's surface.

"Of course, Keigo-sama."

"_Of course, Father."_

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"Tezuka. Fancy seeing you here."

Tezuka turned at the sound of the familiar drawl, the usually hint of self-assurance lacing the words. "Atobe," he said politely in acknowledgement, nodding his head slightly in greeting.

"I never took you to be the type to join a party, Tezuka. Care to enlighten me?" Atobe said, sauntering closer to the Seigaku captain who looked to be trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible.

Tezuka trailed his eyes across the sweeping dance floor, the grand orchestra, and the chattering of gallantly dressed businessmen and their elegantly dressed wives. "My father was recently promoted. Umino-san invited us for tonight." He didn't ask why Atobe was here; there was no reason to.

"Umino-san is a generous man," Atobe said smoothly, the lie shining through in his eyes and his smirk. Umino-san wasn't generous by any means, nor was he particularly greedy; he was simply a higher-up at one Tokyo business or another that his father had likely introduced him to in an attempt to form another "alliance".

"Hn." Tezuka turned away, giving Atobe a chance to scrutinize the former. Clad in a light-blue—most probably silk—shirt and black slacks, Tezuka didn't particularly stand out because of his wardrobe. His hair was in its usual attractive disarray, and the silver frames of his glasses glimmered in the chandelier light. His wrist was devoid of its usual wristband, instead wrapped in a thin, platinum watch that ticked away at the seconds.

It took Atobe a moment before he realized he was staring. He quickly averted his gaze, opening his mouth to say something, only to be called over by his father.

He turned his head, his eyes raking across the crowd to pinpoint the origin of the voice. His eyes finally caught onto the slim outline of his father, dressed in another deep navy business suit as he entertained a few other guests. The hands of one of the guests rested on the shoulder of a young female, no more than sixteen years old. Her frame was slim and underdeveloped, and her short raven hair took at contrast against her ceramic pale skin.

Atobe's eyes narrowed in annoyance as he forced a smile, waiting to give the likely sparkles and flowers their queue.

He turned back to Tezuka, whose eyes analyzed him behind their glass enclosures, silent and immutable as always.

"If you'll excuse me," Atobe said, giving a flourished hand gesture in feigned regret. He bowed his head politely under the scrutinizing eyes of his father as he turned and walked away, ready to sweep another giggling and frivolous girl off to the dance floor for another waltz.

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"…How did you get my number?"

Atobe laughed flippantly. "Honestly, Tezuka. Did you honestly need to ask? My family has various connections, after all. All it took was a phone call."

"And a dance."

Atobe paused at Tezuka's assertion, his fingers gripping the handle of the antique Victorian phone just a little tighter. "Yes, and a dance."

"Of course," he continued after a brief, albeit uncertain, pause, "That's a small price to pay, ahn?" He smirked into the phone, crossing his legs as he leaned back into the comfortable armchair.

"Why are you calling?" Tezuka asked, his voice flat and devoid of emotion, though Atobe could maybe detect the faintest hint of annoyance beneath the monotone.

Atobe laughed again, flipping away his bang with his free hand. "Can't I call to simply say hello?"

"No."

"So cold, Tezuka. You really should relax sometimes. Speaking of which, there's another party this Friday night. Care to attend?" His twirled the hair at the base of his neck absently as he spoke, feeling the soft locks twine around his fingers as his eyes traced the outline of a bookcase across the room of his parlor.

"…"

Atobe almost laughed again at Tezuka's usual laconic, borderline nonexistent, responses. "Wonderful. I'll have my driver pick you up at eight. Oshitari is suppose to be attending as well, but I have a feeling that he will mysteriously fall sick and be nursed back to health by his generous, loyal doubles pa—"

Tezuka hung up

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"…"

"I look stunning as always, I know, but please refrain from staring so openly in public." Atobe smirked, crossing his legs as his chauffer closed the door with a muted thud. In his own opinion, he did look more stunning than usual today: his hair had been abnormally cooperative, he went shopping two days ago, and he just had manicure.

"…Good to see you too, Atobe," Tezuka said, the lightest smile ghosting over his lips. Atobe almost didn't notice but the humorous twinkle in the Seigaku captain's eyes caught his interest.

"Of course you are." He smiled this time, folding his hands on his knee as an unusually comfortable silence overtook them. Silence itself was unusual; Atobe had a distaste of silence, stemmed from the stiff, formal, and utterly silent outings with his father. Atobe usually found that if someone else doesn't talk, he would if only to have some sort of noise.

But, Atobe decided as he watched Tezuka from the corner of his eyes, the other captain absently staring out the tinted windows, perhaps this time, he didn't mind.

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"You're late."

Atobe hid a smile as he pulled out a seat for himself, amused at the fact Tezuka didn't even bother to look up from the slim blue notebook that rested open in his hands. "My apologies. My doubles pairings were being punished for some…_minor_ infractions. Nothing illegal, per say," he said, his voice teasing, "just mentally scarring."

"Hn." Tezuka pushed his glasses up with his left hand, his right folding together the sides of the notebook as he set it down onto the table.

"So, Tezuka," Atobe continued, waving his head leisurely to hail one of the giggling waitresses over, "Business or pleasure today?"

Tezuka ignored Atobe's teasing as he slid the notebook closer to Atobe for the other to see. "This is supposed to be next week's line-up for the practice games against St. Rudolph. Inui hasn't seen them yet but I thought I'd bring them by."

Atobe took a sip up water from the newly delivered glass, biting back a grimace at the distinct taste of plebian tap water. "Of course, of course. My brilliance will of course be of use to you." He picked up the notebook, scanning the line-up and match-ups. "Hm, Inui-Kaidoh pair again, Tezuka? Hoping to have another Golden Pair around?"

"They make a good team."

"Indeed." He continued running his eyes down the list before pausing at the end. "Fuji is the alternate? He won't be too pleased."

Tezuka crossed his arms as he leaned back into the chair's backing. "It was at his request."

Atobe nodded; it sounded like something the tensai would do. The Fuji brother's complex was known throughout the entire Kantou tennis circuit; it was a tennis player's version of a soap opera. "I can imagine." He slid the notebook back to Tezuka. "I see nothing wrong to change. I'm surprised you aren't going to make things a bit different this time. After all, it's not like. St. Rudolph will be a great challenge."

Tezuka shot Atobe a reprimanding look at his last comment which Atobe waved off with a faint hand gesture. "Don't try to deny it. St. Rudolph is a good team, not a great one. Anyway," Atobe said, leaning forward from the chair, resting his elbow on the table and his hand supporting his head as he pinned Tezuka with a look of faint curiosity. "Have you ever played doubles, Tezuka?"

Tezuka raised an eyebrow, not seeing where the line of thought had come from.

Atobe laughed, lowering his gaze slightly and leaning further into his hand. "Doubles, Tezuka. Yes or no?"

"No. People have asked, but it never seemed like right time."

"Hm," Atobe said, standing up after the prolonged silence that followed his inquiry. "I must be going, I'm afraid. However," he said, pausing, "there's another party this Saturday. I'll pick you up seven."

He didn't let Tezuka protest; he never did.

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"Why do you always do that?"

Atobe looked up. "Hm? Do what?"

"Dance."

Atobe laughed, the noise strained and empty in its falsity. "Why wouldn't I dance?" he replied, his voice teasing yet still empty and forced.

"Because you hate it."

Atobe stopped, his eyes gazing not quite at Tezuka but the empty space behind him. His eyes dulled and his lips turned into its fakest smile yet. "It doesn't matter whether I like it or not, Tezuka. I dance because others want me to, isn't that enough?"

"Hn. But what is it you want, Atobe?" Tezuka moved, brushing past Atobe as he headed to the intricate double doors that led to a facsimile of the Garden of Eden, glowing under the taunting dance of the moon and reprimanding smile of the stars.

And Atobe just watched after the man, eyes wondering and curious and afraid.

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"Tezuka."

The captain turned his head in faint acknowledgement, never letting his eyes leave the unearthly glow that entrapped the garden. The stars glimmered brighter this night, breaking away from the overcast, and the ever-constant flow of the fountains fell in rhythm with the slow waltz that drifted outside from the open doors of the ballroom. He remained silent, content on watching and waiting.

"Dance with me, Tezuka."

"Why?"

Atobe slid his hands into Tezuka's lightly tugging him further down into the garden, shielded by the dancing flowers and plants. "Just because, Tezuka," he said. "Just because."

_End._

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Reviews are loved and appreciated. I'm a review whore. Sue me.


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